What If, If Only
by Tomiko Lou
Summary: Discontinued. The turn of events if Ron had recieved Snape's old potions book in Harry's place.
1. The First

**Hiii**

**No guarantees this story will be any good, but it's worth a try. If you didn't catch this from the Summary, and my little copied quote from above, this is a story about what would have happened if Slughorn had handed Ron Snape's old potions book instead of Harry, and Harry had gotten the puked on one.**

**It will stick to the book, but will change with what would have happened if Harry hadn't gotten the book, so it will be in Harry's POV, but I can't guarantee I won't include a chapter or two written from Ron's. I also might cut out a few bits if they wouldn't be affected by the book. **

**Half of these sentences are not my own work; I copied most of this chapter directly from **_**Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince**_

**Please review, even if it's shit, xx.**

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'Sir?' said Harry, raising his hand.

'Harry, m'boy?'

'I haven't got a book or scales or anything – nor's Ron – we didn't realize we'd be able to do the N.E.W.T., you see –'

'Ah, yes Professor McGonagall did mention … not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts …'

Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and after a moment's foraging emerged with two very battered-looking copies of _Advanced Potion-Making_ by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Harry and Ron along with two sets of tarnished scales.

Slughorn went on to show them four potions, which were all identified by Hermione, resulting in Slughorn beaming at her and going on to bombard her with questions of her heritage, and then awarding twenty points to Gryffindor.

After Hermione identified the third potion as a powerful love potion, Slughorn progressed into the lesson, until Ernie Macmillan pointed out the Last Potion that Slughorn had seemingly failed to mention, though Harry suspected he had forgotten intentionally to add dramatic affect.

Ernie pointed at a small, black Cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the colour of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.

'Oho,' said Slughorn. 'Yes. That. Well,_ that _one, ladies and gentlemen, is the most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it,' he turned, smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, 'that you know what Felix Felicis, does Miss Granger?'

'Its liquid luck,' said Hermione excitedly. 'It makes you lucky!'

The whole class sat up a little straighter at her words, and even more so when Slughorn informed them that whoever brewed the most accurate attempt at the Draught of Living Death would be rewarded with their own flask of Felix Felicis.

Everybody hurriedly drew their cauldrons towards them. Harry flicked to page ten and, attempting to ignore Ron's complaints about graffiti all over his book, set to work. In a few minutes, everyone had bubbling cauldrons wafting with bluish steam, although Hermione was way ahead of the whole class.

Harry chopped up his roots, and grabbed a Sopophorous bean, attempting to cut it. He glanced at Hermione, who was staring accusingly at her potion, as if waiting for something, and then to Ron who was squinting at the tiny hand writing scribbled all over his book. He was frowning, his fingers tracing the words as whispered them to himself.

'Can I borrow your silver knife?' Ron asked abruptly, his eyes jumping from his book suddenly to Hermione. She nodded without taking her eyes off her potion, still waiting for it to change to the predicted colour.

Harry watched Ron curiously, as the Red Head used the flat side of the silver knife to crush the bean. Harry smirked a little; Ron had never been good at potions, and Harry wondered if Ron could possibly have given up trying, and had decided to just experiment with ingredients for fun.

Harry's eyes widened a little as Ron's crushed bean exuded more juice than Harry would have thought possible for the small bean. Ron hastily scooped the juice into the cauldron, and his potion immediately turned the exact shade of lilac described in the book, and a goofy smile spread across Ron's freckled face.

Harry groaned and again attempted to cut his bean, not wanting to ask to use the same method as Ron, as he was set on finishing his work alone. He finally broke through the shriveled skin of the bean, and juice oozed out (though not nearly as much as when Ron crushed it) and he added it to his potion, which turned the same black-current colour as Hermione's.

He noticed Ron begin to stir his potion, and couldn't help but pick up on the fact that Ron, after peering down at his book, began to add a clockwise stir after every seventh counter-clockwise stir, and Ron's potion immediately turned as clear as water.

'How are you doing that?' demanded Hermione, immediately picking up on Ron's progress.

Ron gave another goofy smile. 'Wouldn't you like to know, Herm?' he said smugly, returning to his book and looking at the next instruction.

Hermione glared at Ron, fire in her eyes, as she reluctantly turned back to her potion.

Harry looked around; most of the class was at the same stage as Hermione and Harry, though no one had gotten to the same step as Ron.

'And time's…up!' called Slughorn. 'Stop stirring please!'

Slughorn began to move through the class room, peering down at their potions, and when he reached the table where Ernie, Harry, Hermione and Ron were sitting, he gave Harry and Ernie's a curt nod, Hermione's a small smile, but when he came to Ron's, a look of absolute delight spread across his bulging cheeks.

'A clear winner!' Slughorn told the class loudly, 'Excellent, Excellent – uh, what did you say your name was?'

'Weasley, sir,' said Ron, going a little red.

'Ah, yes, related to Irvine Weasley, the founder of the Wet-Flame potion?' Slughorn asked excitedly.

'Uh…yeah, distant relative, but yeah…' muttered Ron.

'Of course, of course,' said Slughorn, fiddling with his walrus moustache. 'Ah, but of course, I owe you, don't I, my boy?' chuckled Slughorn. He plunged his hand inside his pocket and withdrew a small flask of the bright, gold liquid, which he handed to Ron.

Ron slipped the flask into his pocket, giving another goofy smile. They packed up, Ron with a spring in his steps, and Hermione with a scowl on her face.

'How did you do that?' Hermione asked again once out of the class room.

Ron shrugged, still smiling. 'I guess it just runs in my family. 'Course, Great-Fourth-Cousin Three-Times-Removed Irvine did only create that potion after setting himself on fire with a cursed flame and then spilling his iced tea on himself,' chuckled Ron.

'Oh, crap, Ron. It's not even you work!' said Hermione in a huff.

'Leave him alone, Hermione, he still made the potion. I mean, the instructions _we _were following are someone else's work, aren't they?' said Harry half heartedly, but he wasn't sure he believed that.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but she was cut off by a feminine voice from behind them, and Harry got a whiff of a sweet flowery smell. 'Hang on, did I hear right? You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book?'

Harry turned to find Ginny had joined them, and her face was woven with anger and alarm. 'Don't worry, Ginny, it's not like it has a mind of its own, it's just old scribbled down instructions,' said Harry reassuringly.

'But you're doing what it says?' Ginny asked, ignoring harry and directing the question at her brother.

'Oh Ginny, for god's sake, I just copied some writing in the margin, it's not like-' Ron began.

'Ginny's got a point,' said Hermione, perking up at once. 'We ought to check there's nothing odd about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who knows?'

'Hey!' Ron protested, as Hermione snatched up his Potions book and rapped her wand against it, saying: '_Specialis revelio_!'

When nothing happened, Ron snatched back the book, saying angrily: 'Done, Herm? Or do you want to have it sent to the Ministry of Magic incase it gives us a paper cut?'

Hermione frowned, putting her wand back in her robes. 'Come on, Ginny,' she said, grabbing Ginny's arm and dragging her off without another word.

Harry pulled his book bag further up his shoulder and began to walk again, until her noticed Ron was staring at something on the back of the book.

'What is it?' Harry asked, turning back and walking to Ron.

'Nothing,' Ron said, shaking his head though continuing to stare at the book, 'it's just, I found this…'

He passed Harry the book, and Harry saw, scribbled in the same, miniature hand writing:

_This Book is the Property of the half Blood Prince_


	2. The Second

**I know a skipped quite a bit but nothing to do with the book really happens, except Harry's grades get better and Hermione get's madder. I'm pretty sure Hermione gets invited to slug club later on in the book, but oh well, this is a fanficton after all.**

** Anyways, read on my dears, and thank you to those people who added my story to their alerts, but I would also appreciate reviews if it's not too much trouble. xxx**

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Ron continued to climb the ladder of grading in potions class, much to Hermione's annoyance and to Harry's dismay. Of course, he was glad that Ron was finally best at something, but Harry was still worried that this would jeopardize Ron and Hermione friendship. Like in third year, a small argument about a completely unimportant topic had turned into a full scale fight after a few rotten words.

And so, to his relief, and to Hermione's, the two new Potions books arrived from Flourish and Blotts with the morning post the day of Quidditch try-outs.

'Oh good,' said Hermione delightedly. 'Now you can give that graffitied copy back.'

'Oh yeah, course I am,' said Ron sarcastically, as Harry stuffed his new book into his book bag. When Hermione didn't say anything Ron continued. 'Geez, Hermione, you seriously think I'd take it back?' He shook his head, staring at her as if she was insane.

Ron flung his new book at Neville saying; 'There you are, Neville, heard you lost yours.' And a look of relief and gratitude spread across Neville's face.

Hermione opened her mouth to begin a well worded lecture, but Ron cut her off when he motioned at the Daily Prophet, and asked casually: 'Anyone we know dead?'

'No, but there have been more Dementor attacks,' said Hermione, turning to her paper. 'And an arrest.'

'Excellent, who?' said Harry, thinking of Bellatrix Lastrange

'Stan Shunpike,' said Hermione with a little gasp.

'What!?' Harry said, startled.

Hermione began to read aloud from the paper, and as she did, Harry could have sworn he saw Ron slip a little something into his, Ron's, pumpkin juice. Harry frowned, watching as Ron slid a tiny flask glinting with gold back into his pocket. Harry was about to open his mouth to question Ron on this but then saw Hermione's reaction in his mind's eye.

He waited until Hermione declared it time to go to Quidditch try-outs, and then made sure he needed to stay behind to organize his Book bag.

'Okay, we'll wait,' said Hermione cheerfully.

'Oh, Nah. Don't bother, I'll meet you there,' Harry smiled at her.

Hermione frowned but then passed away the worry. 'Come on then, Ron,' and she began towards the Oak doors of the great hall with the crowd on their way to watch or join try-outs.

Ron turned to follow her but Harry grabbed his arm, stopping him from leaving. 'What did you put in your pumpkin juice, Ron?'

Ron shifted in his spot, not meeting Harry's eyes. 'Just a bit of Felix, you know, for luck. I mean, you can't just let me on the team 'cause we're mates, can you?'

'Don't be an idiot; you don't need to try out,'

'Course I do! You can't just let me on without watching me; I might cost you the Cup. Anyway, I might as well, mightn't I? Should be good with a bit of Felix,' he smiled to himself.

'Ron,' Harry glanced around and lent close to Ron, lowering his voice, 'It's illegal, Ron,'

'No! It's illegal to use it in _competitions_, this is try-outs,'

Harry shook his head, unconvinced but after checking his watch realized he was late for his own get together.

They hurried down the corridor's, ignoring Lavender Brown as she stopped to wish Ron luck, and once outside found themselves in heavy, ice cold Rain.

'So much for Felix, huh?' Harry asked, a little smugly.

'Nup, I fly best in wet weather,' said Ron, his face lighting up in the rain. 'Heh, maybe I didn't need to use the half the bottle…'

'You used half the bottle!?' Harry spat, mortified, 'Slughorn said one teaspoon would be enough for three hours!'

'Well yeah, what else am I going to use it for…' but as Ron said this his eyes glazed over and Harry saw the unmistakable look of longing on Ron's face.

As Harry had expected, the trials took most of the morning. Half of the Gryffindor house seemed to have turned up, from first-years who were nervously clutching a selection of horrible school brooms, to seventh-years who towered over the rest looking coolly intimidating. The latter included a large, wiry-haired boy Harry recognized immediately from the Hogwarts express.

'We met on the train, in old Sluggy's compartment,' he said confidently, stepping out of the crowd to shake Harry's hand. 'Cormac McLaggen, Keeper.'

'You didn't try out last year, did you?' asked Harry, taking note of the breadth of McLaggen and thinking that he would probably block all three goalposts without even moving.

'I was in the hospital wing when they held the trials,' said McLaggen, with something of a swagger. 'Ate a pound of Doxy eggs for a bet.'

'Right,' said Harry, 'well…if you wait over there…'

He pointed over to the edge of the pitch, close to where Hermione was sitting. He thought he saw a flicker of annoyance pass over McLaggen's face and wondered whether McLaggen expected preferential treatment because they were both 'old Sluggy's' favorites.

The try-outs went on, and to Harry's annoyance, found that a quarter of the group could hardly get their brooms airborne, and another quarter were from different houses.

It was a close choice between McLaggen and Ron, but it appeared the Felix Felicis did indeed pay off, and Ron was indeed better in wet conditions, whereas McLaggen slid off his broom in the heavy rain.

At the end of the day he found himself with Katie Bell, Demelza Robins and Ginny Weasley for Chasers; Ritchie Coot and Jimmy Peakes as Beaters; himself as Seeker, and, to McLaggen's fury, Ron as Keeper.

Harry waited in the change rooms for Ron to get cowered and changed, and then they left together, to find Hermione waiting at the entrance, ready to fling herself into Ron's arms, which she did.

'You did brilliantly, Ron!' she squealed.

'Thanks,' he beamed at her, hugging her tightly. 'Herm, you're sopping wet,' he shrugged his jacket off and put it around her shoulders. Harry stood next to them awkwardly. He knew Ron would never be this confident on a normal day, but was fully aware of where his confidence was coming from.

On their way towards the castle, Ron gave them both a very detailed description of every save and every score he made. Hermione nodded vigorously, ensuring him that he was brilliant, as Harry suppressed a laugh.

He gave Ron his full attention as Ron started a demonstration of his last save with his fasts, and so crashed into a very flustered Professor Sprout, causing a number of bright purple, pulsating pods to cascade form her arms to the floor.

He stooped to help her retrieve them, noticing that Ron and Hermione didn't even glance behind them to check if he was following them, and he could have sworn he saw Ron put his arm around Hermione's shoulders when they reached the castle doors.

Harry sighed and decided he might as well visit Hagrid, which was less than enjoyable as Hagrid first began angry that Harry hadn't continued with Care of Magical Creatures, then had to injure Hagrid's angry mumbles at Ron and Hermione for not continuing either, and then had to comfort Hagrid as he learnt that the man eating, elephant sized spider, Aragog, was dying.

He then remembered he had detention with Snape, and headed to the Great Hall for a hurried dinner. When he entered he scanned the room, but to his disappointment neither Ron nor Hermione were anywhere to be found.

He sighed and went through the doorway of the great hall, but he had only taken three steps when his path was blocked by Slughorn.

'Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see!' he boomed genially, twiddling the ends of his walrus moustache and puffing out his enormous belly. 'I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We're having a little party, just a few rising stars. I've got McLaggen coming, and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin – I don't know whether you know her? Her family owns a chain of apothecaries – and, of course, I hope very much that Miss Granger and Mr Weasley would do me the favour of coming, too, so if you happened to bump into them would you care to give them the word?'

'I can't come professor,' said Harry at once. 'I've got a detention with professor Snape.'

'Oh dear!' Said Slughorn, his face falling comically. 'Dear, dear, I was counting on you, harry! Well, now, I'll just have to have a word with Severus and explain the situation, I'm sure I'll be able to persuade him to postpone your detention. Yes, I'll see you later and most hopefully Mr Weasley and Miss Granger!'

Harry, disappointed with the assuring thought that Snape would postpone his detention for no-one but Dumbledore which had already happened, finished dinner quickly, dashed upstairs, and finally found Ron and Hermione huddled together on the same armchair, Hermione with her head resting against Ron's chest as she scanned the Dailey Prophet and he stroked her hair.

Harry approached cautiously, not sure he wanted to intrude. He took a steadying breath before alerting them to his presence. 'Er-hi...' he said, almost as a question.

'Oh, Harry!' squealed Hermione, going bright red and struggling to get onto her own seat, but only succeeded in sliding to the ground and landing with a sharp 'thud'.

Harry smiled weakly and extended his hand to help Hermione to her feet, but Ron beat him to it and pulled her back on his lap.

'Where did you get to, mate?' asked Ron, encouraging Hermione to settle back into his lap.

'Well...' Harry frowned, feeling himself flare up, 'Where did _you_ get to? I just turned around and you were gone!'

'Oh, Harry, we're sorry! We forgot!' Hermione muttered, blushing once more.

'Yeah well, Slughorn wants us all at his party,' he said glumly.

'Oh, god! Do we have to go?' whined Hermione, as Ron chuckled.

'I don't know, it doesn't sound that bad,' said Ron. Ron had never been noticed like Harry and Hermione, between Harry's fame and Hermione's brains, but now finally he had supposedly found his calling, Harry was sure he would lap up the attention.

'Well, I'd rather go, seeming it's either that or detention with Snape,' sighed Harry, slumping into the next armchair.

'Harry?' said the new Chaser, Demelza Robins, appearing suddenly at his shoulder. 'I've got a message for you.'

'From Professor Slughorn?' asked Harry, sitting up hopefully.

'No...from Professor Snape,' Said Demelza. Harry's heart sank. 'He says you're to come to his office at half past eight tonight to do your detention – er – no matter how many party invitations you've received. And he wanted you to know you'll be sorting out rotten Flobberworms from good ones, to use in potions class, and – and he says there's no need to bring protective gloves.'

'Right,' said Harry grimly. 'Thanks a lot, Demelza,'


	3. The Third

**I know I skipped quite a bit, including some key points in the plot, but they're to do with Horcruxes and Katy getting cursed, which don't have anything to do with the Potions Book. Revieeeeeew 3**

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A few days before the first Quidditch game of the season, Ron had hit Demelza in the mouth and caused a steady river of blood to flow from her lip and being called a prat by Ginny during practise.

On the way back to the common room, Harry tried to cheer up and encourage a severely pissed off Ron. Harry finally managed to get Ron in a better mood by criticizing McLaggen until they pulled back the tapestry to find Ginny and Dean very immersed in each other's lips.

After a severe shouting match between the two youngest Weasley children, which resulted in Ron practically calling his sister a whore, and Ginny telling Ron that he only minded Ginny kissing Dean because he, Ron, had as much experience as a twelve-year-old, whereas Hermione had kissed Krum and Harry had kissed Cho Chang, Ginny had stormed off, almost in tears, and Harry was left with an infuriated Ron.

'D'you think Hermione really did snog Krum?' Ron asked abruptly, as the approached the fat Lady. Harry gave a guilty start and wrenched his imagination away from the corridor in which no Ron intruded, in which he and Ginny were quite alone-

'What?' he said confusedly. 'Oh…er…' The honest answer 'yes', but he did not want to give it. 'Does it really matter if she did?' he said instead. 'I mean, they don't see each other anymore anyway, do they? And, well, you guys have…haven't you?' Harry realized Ron had never gone into detail about what he and Hermione had gotten up to, or whether they had even kissed.

Ron's face went bright red. 'Well…not really. She's kissed me on the cheek and stuff, but not snogging.' However, Ron seemed to pick up. 'But you're right! She obviously doesn't give a damn about Krum!' he smiled broadly.

Despite Ron's obvious pick up, Harry spent a restless night, arguing with himself and his new found feelings for Ginny.

Ron's Quidditch skills deteriorated over the next few days, and on the morning before their first Quidditch Match, Ron looked pale as ever as he and Harry got into their Quidditch Robes. Harry offered words encouragement but they seemed to take no affect.

Harry sighed, turning away from Ron. Ron had always had trouble with confidence, but if he overcame that he was a more than fair player.

The fact that Ginny had informed them that Malfoy and another Slytherin Chaser had gone off sick and the seemingly perfect whether didn't seem to be offering comfort for Ron.

Harry turned back to Ron, thinking of making a point about where Malfoy could have gotten to to get Ron's mind off the game, when he saw Ron downing the left of the Felix Felicis.

'Ron! What the hell are you doing?!' Harry spluttered, dashing over to Ron to knock the flask from his hand, but the slopping golden liquid was already gone.

Ron smiled smugly at Harry, smacking his lips and dropping the flask back into the pocket of his Quidditch Robes.

Harry let out a long, agitated sigh. 'Ron, you complete idiot! You can get expelled for that!'

'Who's gonna find out, Harry? Who's gonna tell anyone? Would _you_? Would you seriously dob in your best mate?' Ron said, continuing to smile with an expression that made Harry want to slap him.

Harry grunted and pushed past Ron out into the Quidditch pitch, where Hermione was waiting to wish them luck.

'Good luck, Harry,' she said, giving him a quick hug, and then moving over to Ron who had just emerged from the Change Rooms.

She dashed over to Ron, throwing her arms around him. 'I really hope you two win, good luck,' she said, kissing him on the cheek.

Ron beamed at her, and without a trace of consideration showing on her face, plunged in, planting a passionate kiss on her lips. Harry saw a hint of shock show in Hermione's hazel eyes, before she shut them with content, clasping his freckled face in her olive hands.

Harry scowled. This was definitely not the time. 'We should get to the rest of the team,' he said, glancing over to where Ginny was standing with the four other team members. He was sure he could see Ginny's mouth hanging open in surprise, but then he saw it crack into a wide smile.

Ron and Hermione broke apart, Ron looking on top of the world, and Hermione blushing the colour of their Quidditch robes.

Harry obeyed Miss Hooch's instructions and shook hands with the Slytherin Captain. Harry and his team, as well as the Slytherins, then mounted their brooms and kicked off into the air under Mrs Hooch's watchful eye.

Despite the criticism from Zacharias Smith who was acting as commentator, it seemed Gryffindor could do no wrong. Again and again they scored, and again and again, at the other end of the pitch, Ron saved goals with apparent ease. He was simply beaming now, and when the crowd particularly good save with the rousing chorus of the old _Weasley is our King_, he pretended to conduct them from on high.

Perhaps it was the Felix, or perhaps it was indeed Harper, Malfoy's replacement, being an idiot just as Ginny had said, but Harry caught the Snitch with ease.

At the end of the game the crowd whooped and cheered, and Ginny crashed into Zacharias Smith, making Harry laugh.

At the festive celebrations which followed the Quidditch Match in the Gryffindor common rooms, Ron and Hermione were no were to be seen, though Ginny made quite a few jokes, and called Ron a filthy hypocrite quite a few times.

At around two in the morning, Harry was woken from his peaceful slumber to a series of curses from someone who's voice Harry recognised as Ron's.

'Ron? What is it? Where the hell have you been?' Harry said, going from confused to worried to angry.

A faint light soon flooded the room, following Ron's muttering of Lumos, 'I stubbed my toe in the dark,' he said, slipping off his shoes and getting into bed.

'Well where have you been?' demanded Harry.

Even in the feeble light, Harry saw Ron beam. 'Got lucky, didn't I?' Harry's mouth fell open in shock,

'Wha- but…seriously?' spluttered Harry, finding it very hard to believe.

Ron nodded, lying out across his bed, tucking his hands behind his head and continuing to beam.


	4. The Fourth

**Well, there's nothing much to say this time round. Enjoy!**

**And please review! I know you people are reading it; I've been checking my traffic! And you've obviously liked it as you subscribe and read the whole thing, so why is it so hard to fucking review?! GOD!**

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Over the next few days, Harry found himself despising every love filled second he spent in the presence of Ron and Hermione. Ron began to make a habit of getting back to the Dormitory after dark, incredibly pleased with himself, but Harry avoided having to talk with him by pretending to snore loudly and rather unconvincingly.

Harry found their presence particularly unbearable in one Transfiguration Lesson when they had embarked on an immensely difficult topic of human transfiguration; working in front of mirrors, they were supposed to be changing the colour of their own eye-brows. Hermione laughed teasingly at Ron's disastrous first attempt, during which he somehow managed to give himself a spectacular handlebar moustache.

Ron and Hermione left the class room incredibly giddy at the end of that lesson, leaving half their things things behind and causing professor McGonagall to tut rather loudly and the rest of their class mates (Excluding Lavender Brown who scowled after the giggling couple) to laugh and crack quite a few inappropriate jokes.

Harry sighed loudly, scooping up their things and heading after them, hoping he wouldn't catch them at a 'bad time'.

He headed down the corridor, arms full or parchment, ink bottles and books as he asked various students if they had seen Ron or Hermione. He saw Snape stalk past him and then stop for no apparent reason, his dark eyes narrowing, his low brow creasing, his large nostrils flaring, as if sniffing out wrong-doers. His head whipped to the side where a Broom Cupboard was sealed into the wall, glaring at it intently as if it had just insulted him.

He drew out his wand, and various students stopped to watch in curiosity, wondering what on Earth Snape believed the Broom Cupboard to be concealing.

'_Alohamora_,' Snape muttered coldly and though gritted teeth and the door of the broom cupboard flew open. The students surrounding it let out loud gasps and then whistles and giggles and cooing broke out over the Crowd. The books dropped from Harry's hands as he slapped his hand to his head.

The sight in the broom cupboard was quite shocking. Ron and Hermione were wrapped around each other. Ron was pushing Hermione up against the wall, his hand slowly sliding up her thigh, as her skirt of her uniform began to ride up her thigh, his other hand gripping her waist firmly. Her hands ruffled his ginger hair, their eyes shut with content. Hermione's white school shirt was totally unbuttoned, revealing her bra and olive stomach and chest for everyone to see, and Ron's shirt had been ripped off and thrown to the ground of the broom cupboard.

At the sound of the crowd, Ron and Hermione's eyes shot open and they broke apart. Hermione looked up at the crowd, then to Snape, who was leering at them, and then down at her exposed torso. She squealed, tears welling in her hazel eyes as she began to button her top furiously. Ron grabbed his shirt, pulling it back on, going bright red.

'I think perhaps, _fifty points from Gryffindor..._from both of you. I'll be alerting Professor McGonagall to this, and I dare say this may jeopardize your roles as Prefects and eliminate your chances of Head Boy and Girl,' said Snape, as Hermione covered her face and sprinted towards the girl's bathroom. Snape was obviously overjoyed at finding Ron and Hermione in their situation.

Ron buried his face in his hands. '_Fuck_,' Harry heard him mutter, before he returned his voice to normal volume and called after Hermione, 'Mione, Come back!' but Hermione had already rounded the corner, obviously in search of a sanctuary.

'Nice work, Ron,'  
'Good one, Weasley,'  
'Lucky you, mate,' various Sixth year boys called after Ron once Snape had stalked off and Ron began to advance towards the end of the Hall Way where Hermione had disappeared, but Harry caught up with him, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder.

'I'll get her,' Harry told him.

'No but – I think I should-'

'Haven't you done enough?' Harry snapped at him. He couldn't help be annoyed. Couldn't they find a better place to do it, or preferably not do it at all? 'Just take yours and Hermione's shit back to the common room, we'll be there soon,' Harry said heavily, and he walked off after Hermione, leaving Ron to gather his and Hermione's books and schoolwork from the ground where Harry had dropped them.

Harry finally tracked her down as she emerged from the girl's toilets on the floor below. She was accompanied by Luna Lovegood, who was patting her vaguely on the back.

'Oh, Hello, Harry,' said Luna. 'Did you know one of your eyebrows is bright yellow?'

'Hi Luna. Hermione, you left your stuff but Ron's taken back to the common room, do you want to go see him, or...' Harry trailed off, noticing the tears welling again once more in Hermione's eyes.

'Oh, yes,' said Hermione in a choked voice, turning away quickly to hide the fact that she was wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. 'I'll get back later, see you Harry. I better be going...'

And she hurried off, without giving Harry any time to offer words of comfort, though admittedly he could not think of any. As Hermione left, two Hufflepuff girls covered their mouths with her hands, whispering frantically to each other as they watched Hermione pass. Had the gossip already spread _that_ quickly?

'She's a bit upset,' said Luna. 'I thought at first it was Moaning Myrtle in there, but then it turned out to be Hermione. She said something about Ron Weasley...'

'Yeah, they – uh – had an incident...' said Harry uncomfortably.

'He does some funny things sometimes, doesn't he?' said Luna, as they set off down the corridor together. 'But he can be a bit dim. I noticed that last year.'

'I s'pose,' said Harry. Luna was demonstrating her usual knack of speaking uncomfortable truths; he had never met anyone quite like her. 'So have you had a good term?'

Their conversation petered out from there, but Harry emerged from it with a date for Slughorn's party, which he was incredibly relieved about, though wished he might possibly have been able to find someone who didn't seem to know not to dye her eyebrows for the party.

* * *

'You could have taken _anyone_!' said Ron in disbelief over dinner. '_Anyone! _And you chose Loony Lovegood?'

'Don't call her that, Ron,' snapped Ginny, pushing behind Harry on her way to join friends. 'I'm really glad you're taking her, Harry, she's so excited!'

And she moved down the table to sit with Dean. Harry tried to feel pleased that Ginny was glad he was taking Luna to the party, but could not quite manage it.

'Ah well, at least you're going,' said Ron in a huff, stabbing his fork viciously into his pie.

'What did McGonagall say?' Harry asked quietly.

'Oh you know; How disappointed she was in us, how we need to learn self control, how that if we can't stop ourselves we won't be prefects anymore, yadda yadda yadda,' Ron grumbled, scooping up a huge mouthful of pie.

Harry was silent, thinking of the best way to respond. 'Have you spoken to her yet?'

Ron shook his head. 'Nup, I tried to talk to her when she came into the common room, but she was a right mess. She hasn't even come down to dinner,' he sighed deeply. 'She's mad at me, but I don't see how it's my fault,'

Harry frowned. 'Well you could have waited. Seriously, the broom cupboard? Wouldn't be much room, and the corridor was full of people!'

Ron chuckled darkly. 'Well, we usually use the prefect bathroom, but we couldn't be fucked going up there. I should probably talk to her...she won't be able to avoid me in detention.'

'What! I don't want to have to go to the freaking party alone!' Harry exclaimed, his voice rising steadily and causing people to stare.

'Sorry, mate, we have to polish all the school brooms down at the Quidditch pitch. We'll be together so, so shouldn't be too bad,' Ron smiled cheekily.


	5. The Fifth

**Sorry for the ridiculous wait. Personally, I doubt it was worth it.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!**

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The next day, Dumbledore arranged for an un-talking Harry and Hermione take a Portkey from Hogwarts. Mr and Mrs Granger sent an owl assuring him he was welcome at their home.

The air at the home was subdued. They ate meals together in silence, silent tears running down Hermione's face all the while. Her parents smiled kindly at Harry, but only spoke to him on occasions he could count on one hand.

He had been given the spare bedroom, but he may as well have been given a stretcher in Hermione's room as she crept into his every night and refused to leave, crying into his shirt for hours.

On the day of Ron's funeral, Harry dressed in dress-robes (after magically enlarging them, seeming they had been intended to fit his fourteen-year-old self) and him and Hermione, using the Floo network, arrived the Burrow.

The atmosphere there was suffocating, a cloud of intense sorrow hanging over everyone's head. He gripped Hermione's hand as he lead her through the dismal crowd. Through the swarm of silent relatives he swore he saw the blank face of Ginny, her brown eyes staring at him, empty of emotion, but when he looked back she was gone.

They only stopped moving when they ran into Luna. Her long, sweeping dark gown had a twitching, purple flower clipped to the front, and she smiled sadly upon seeing them. She slowly gave them both a comforting hug, causing Hermione to break down once more.

Luna reached into her pocket, pulling out two more twitching flowers, which she pushed into Harry and Hermione's hands. 'For the hurt.' She said softly, before moving away to sit with a pale, shaking Neville.

They approached Arthur and Molly, and Molly pulled them both into a tight hug, shaking with tears.

As he broke away, he caught Fred and George staring at him and Hermione, as if challenging them to defend themselves. Harry looked away; he already blamed himself, he didn't need reminding of his inability to find a bezoar, which Snape had since announced would have been enough to stop the poison.

Leaving Hermione with Molly, he moved away. He needed to be alone.

Soon he found his feet dragging him to the utmost floor of the household he had spent so many happy hours in, and, his heart betraying him, he found himself in Ron's sickeningly orange bedroom.

He stood at the door, gazing around, taking in every last detail.

He turned to go, just as he heard a shuffling behind the bed. He stiffened, and in an instant he had reached into his robes and withdrawn his wand. Who dared disrupt the peace of this room? Who was so heartless to meddle with the memories? Who in their right mind would be able to walk into this room without falling to pieces?

Suddenly, Ginny jumped up from behind the bed, her hands in flurry around her face, wiping away tears.

He breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his wand. Ginny was allowed. He would let Ginny enter the room.

Even now he couldn't overlook her beauty. Her fiery hair had been pinned back, and her lovely frame was complimented by possibly the loveliest dress Harry had ever seen.

'Harry, I- I...' she was lost for word, and her eyes fell to her feet.

She began to walk towards him, and he held out his arms, ready to hold, comfort and kiss her.

But instead she brushed past him, hurrying down the stairs.

Harry sat numbly through the ceremony. He sat at the back with Hermione, Neville and Luna, declining Bill's offers for him and Hermione to sit at the front with the family.

When he looked around he concluded that the Weasleys had opted for a small ceremony; apart from he, Hermione, Neville and Luna the only school friends attending were Seamus and Dean, but they were staying well away from everyone, murmuring sad words of memory to each other; Lee Jordan was there, sitting a few seats in front of them with Angelina Johnson, but Harry gathered they were there to support and out of honour to Fred and George; sombre-looking Aunts and Uncles were there, but there were no family members the same age as any of the Weasley children; and then, of course, Order members who were close to Arthur and Molly attended.

The immediate family sat at the front, Mrs Weasley weeping all the while, Charlie patting her softly on the back; Bill sat beside him, stony faced, with Fleur sitting behind him, her hand on his shoulder all the time, with a teary Gabrielle clutching at her arm; Fred and George were staring straight ahead, looks of utter fury and desperate confusion on their faces, and finally Arthur took the stand.

He said just a few words, about how amazing Ron was, though it was hardly personal; it could have been any father speaking of any son. Harry assumed it would have cut too deep to have to intimately describe Ron to so many broken-hearts. Harry eventually tuned out.

Charlie then said a few words about his brother, but they were no more personal than Arthur's had been. Finally, when it was Bill's turn to speak, he told the story of the first time he had gotten Ron on a broom stick, which reduced the whole crowd to tears.

Molly seemed to be refusing to speak, and so Fred and George went up, unaware of what to say, glanced at each other, and then turned back and hurried to their seats without a word.

It was then that Harry realised Ginny wasn't with her family, and he spun around wildly. She had to be here; he needed her within his sight. He needed to know she was alright.

The ceremony ended and the crowd slowly got to their feet, and soon the crowd had dispersed and soon the flourishing garden was empty, apart from Charlie, Bill and Arthur. They stumbled through the plastic chairs, stacking the ones they passed with a half-heart wave of their wands. Their eyes remained stubbornly set down, forcing their minds onto the task at hand.

Harry went to the fireplace as to see Hermione off back home.

'When will you be back at school?' he asked her weakly, as he gave her a tight hug.

'Dunno.' She mumbled. 'Bye, Harry.' She stepped into fireplace and threw the glittering powder down at her feet, green flames springing up around her ankles. And in an instant she was gone.

Harry blindly returned to the garden and helped restack the stark white chairs. Charlie had already left, and Arthur had returned to the house, so Bill was alone, with Fleur following him around like a sad little lamb.

'Bill, I muzt take Gabrielle to ze Miniztry. You know zey don't allow international deparrrturez from home-fireplazez.'

Bill nodded numbly, avoiding her eyes.

She leant forward to kiss him on the cheek, but he kept his eyes forward, as if she was invisible.

Harry was certain he saw a hint of hurt in Fleur's gleaming blue eyes as she kissed him, but he assured himself he imagined it. And Bill and Fleur had fought, he didn't really care.

He had been offered Ron's room by Arthur, and, promising he would stay away from the family, he began his treacherous journey back up to that terrifying room. It would be easier for him to get the Knight Bus back to school the next morning from the Burrow than from Hermione's home in Muggle-suburbia.

As he passed the door to a scarcely used sitting room on the second floor, Dean came tumbling out, his face contorted with rage and grief. Harry stared as he stormed down the stairs, and so didn't notice when Ginny slunk out of the room. However, when he turned back to the stair case he noticed her retreating back.

'Ginny,' he murmured.

She turned, and catching sight of him, stopped.

'Ginny...' He hurried up the first few steps, leaving another few between Ginny and himself. 'You weren't at the ceremony.'

She looked at her feet. 'I was back in Ron's room.' She paused, and Harry half expected her to burst into tears. 'I'm pretty tired. Night.' She turned back and sped up the stairs.

He began forward, but was caught off guard by a loud cry.

He ran back downstairs. No one could be hurt. He begged for no one else to have come to harm.

And, for once it seemed, he was not disappointed. Percy stood in the door way, his and Molly's arms around each other, crying heavily into each other's shoulders.

Lupin, Tonks and Kingsley were watching the reconciliation awkwardly, seeming torn between heading into the kitchen to get tea started, as opposed to simply walking form the door and leaving the family in peace.

Harry, however, never learnt of their decision, and merely turned and traipsed back to the utmost floor.

* * *

At two AM, Harry was still awake. Lupin and Tonks had only left perhaps an hour ago, but Arthur and Molly were in bed none the less.

He rolled over, unearthing his head from under his pillow. He had been attempting to drown out his surroundings. But it hadn't worked.

When he freed his ears, he became aware of the distant weeping.

He got out of bed, pulled on his discarded shirt and crept slowly and silently down the stair case. He passed Fred and George's room, from which he could hear their quiet discussion of childhood memories, and he continued to the next landing, where Ginny's soft whimpers could be heard.

He knocked slowly on the door, and in an instant it was wrenched open.

'Oh...' she whispered as she took in his sorry smile and dishevelled hair. 'I thought...' but she never finished, shaking her head. She was in her night down, and the mascara she had been wearing to the ceremony was trailing down her face.

'Can I come in?'

She bit her lip, and after a moment's consideration stepped back to let him in, shutting the door behind him. She went to her bed, sitting herself down and staring at the far wall, making a note of keeping him out of her line of sight.

He remained standing. 'Ginny?'

'Mmm?'

'Who did you think it was?'

She chanced to meet his eyes. 'I thought... I thought that it- it might have been Dean. I thought he might have flown here with his broom stick or something.'

Harry stared at her incredulously. He had forgotten about Dean. Surely he didn't matter after the recent happenings? Harry and Ginny alone comprehended the others sufferings; they were the only ones who could relate.

But Ginny went on. 'After the funeral... he came looking for me, and asked me why I hadn't been at the ceremony. And I told him I couldn't face it. And he told me I'd regret it. And I told him to get out and that I- that I didn't care how I felt anymore... and that he didn't matter to me. But it wasn't true.' She paused to let out a sob. 'I thought he might have come back, so I could say sorry.'

Harry walked slowly to her side, and sat on the bed beside her. He felt her shrink beside him, and draw her arms and legs closer to herself. He leant towards her, his lips steadily approaching hers, but she jumped up.

'What are you doing?' she demanded, still attempting to keep her voice to a whisper. 'Get out of my room! Get out! _Get out!_'

Harry jumped up. 'Ginny, what's wrong with y-'

But she was pushing him from the room, and he daren't disobey her. He was thrown onto the landing, and she slammed her bedroom door in his face.

He stared at the point in the doorway where her bright brown eyes had been just seconds before, before he wrenched his eyes back to the stairs and, with all his might, focused on putting one foot in front of the other to get himself back to his allocated bed.

* * *

**Poor Ginny. Poor Harry, too! Poor Dean – god, I love him.**

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**Thankyou for reading! x**


	6. The Sixth

**This chapter drifts from Half Blood, but it is replacing 'Elf Tails'.**

**Poor Harry!**

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Harry sat numbly in Dumbledore's office, staring into the calm blue eyes of the fraying headmaster.

His head was swimming. None of this could be happening. It was impossible, laughable even! Completely and utterly surreal. Ron couldn't be dead, _couldn't be! _Just this morning the two had been laughing. Just this morning Ron had been fine. He couldn't be dead. Harry refused to accept it.

'Arthur and Molly will be here shortly.' Said Dumbledore evenly, surveying Harry from across his desk. He had his fingers knitted together, with his chin resting on them. 'I'm so sorry.'

Harry merely nodded. He needn't say anything, because Ron wasn't dead. They were wrong, they were all wrong.

Slughorn, who would now be sleeping in the hospital wing having needed to be administered a Calming Draught, was wrong. Hermione, who was sobbing in the chair beside Harry at that very moment, was wrong. Ginny, who was in the hospital wing, sitting rigidly by her brother, was wrong. The other Weasleys, who were rushing to Ron's side, were wrong. And Dumbledore, with his apologies and understanding eyes, was wrong.

'I'm sorry, Harry, but I need you to recall this morning's happenings, perhaps to prevent another death.' Said Dumbledore, and Harry's mind replayed a hidden clip of Dumbledore asking that of Harry – perhaps word for word – two years ago. He was also reminded of the previous summer, when he had screamed, and raged and cried for Sirius. But there was no need for that now; Ron wasn't dead. They were wrong.

'Harry, please. I know this is hard, but it must be done.'

Again Harry nodded. It wasn't true – _it wasn't true – _but still Dumbledore needed to know exactly what happened... even though it wasn't true.

Dumbledore's eyes flickered towards Hermione, and Harry followed suit. It appeared Dumbledore wanted a statement from both of them (and no doubt Slughorn when he awoke), but it was apparent that being asked to retell Ron's death (even though he wasn't dead) would be too much for Hermione, and so Dumbledore was addressing Harry.

Harry bit his lip and extended a hand to grip Hermione's, but she only cried more heavily at his touch, continuing to smother her face in her hands, gasping for breath between sobs.

He cleared his throat and began. 'This morning, when we were getting ready he-' but at that instant the door flew open, bringing Harry's rescue.

Harry spun around to see Fred and George Weasley, who both made it to the desk in seconds. George stood back a bit, his fists clenching and unclenching, his teeth grinding, whereas Fred slammed his fists down on to table, achieving nothing but Dumbledore's eyes to shift from Harry to the distraught redhead, his blue eyes still absent of anger.

'Where is he?!' demanded Fred, struggling to find his voice. 'Where the hell is our brother?!'

'Mum sent an owl from home, and we were in Hogsmeade so we came up as quick as we could, and we went to the hospital wing and Ginny was there, and she said they wouldn't let her in. Why the fuck won't they let her see her brother?' asked George weakly. His voice lacked the raw rage that Fred's bristled with, and was instead filled with pleading desperation.

Harry turned back to the door, to see Ginny leaning against the frame, breathing heavily, her face pale and her eyes blood-shot, puffy and tearful. He had the instant urge to comfort her, to hold her, to tell her it will be okay, but he managed to restrain himself.

'Fred, George, Ginevra; please have a seat.' requested Dumbledore, his voice retaining that maddening calmness.

'We don't want a damn seat! We want to see Ron!' this time it was Ginny who yelled. Her body shook as she straightened herself up.

George crossed to her side and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but this wasn't enough for Ginny. She began to cry into George's robes, and he wrapped his arms around her thin frame.

Hermione seemed oblivious to the three new occupants of the spacey room, and she did nothing but continue to weep.

Dumbledore sighed as he watched Ginny wail into George's chest. He waved his wand and three chairs appeared beside Harry and Hermione's. 'I insist you have a seat. We must talk.'

Fred glared daggers at the old man, but never the less slumped into the closest chair. George led Ginny to the chair closest to Harry, and then took his own seat.

'I completely understand what you are going through,' Dumbledore began, receiving a cruel snort from Fred, but he continued as if there had been to interruption, 'but we don't know the exact method of the poison. Ron has been moved to an antechamber of the hospital wing, as, depending the ingredients added to the poison, we can't rule out the chance that his body may spread the venom as plague. Professor Snape is running various tests so that when your brother's and parents arrive you will be able to be with Ron without any risk to yourselves. I dare say Professor Slughorn will have woken by now, and he will assist Snape with the diagnoses.'

There was a short, heavy silence.

'I don't understand.' Murmured Ginny, shaking in her chair.

Dumbledore's gaze shifted to the petite, brown-eyed girl. 'What don't you understand, Ginevra?' he asked tenderly.

'How he can be dead.' She said, unable to contain her sobs. 'He can't be dead. I spoke to him last night. He was fine. He can't – he just can't...' she buried her face in her hands, and Harry shifted his chair closer to her, putting his arm around her. Like she had to George, she buried her face in his shirt, continuing to sob.

For the second time in the last ten minutes, the door to Dumbledore's office was thrown open with a bang, and Bill, Molly and Arthur Weasley stormed in, accompanied by Fleur.

'Where is he?!' demanded Mrs Weasley. 'What happened? Albus, it's not true! This can't be happening!' she wailed. Her face was tear-stained and she was shaking.

'Albus, please,' began Mr Weasley. His face was snow white, his eyes glazed over. 'Tell me it isn't true. Your owl brought us a letter- a letter that said Ron- said that Ron had... It can't be true.'

'It's true, Arthur.' Said Dumbledore slowly. 'I'm so sorry, but Ronald's dead.'

They had all heard the news previously, but to have it said aloud by Albus Dumbledore made it final. Mrs Weasley let out a little cry and sank to the floor. Mr Weasley fell against the wall, letting out little murmurs of "no, no, no". Ginny slid onto her knees and wrapped her arms around Harry, balling into his chest. George leant forward, burying his face in his hands. Fred got to his feet, his hand over his mouth, taking a few steps away to shield his face. Bill turned to Fleur, wrapping his arms around her to apparently keep himself attached to reality, and Hermione got to her feet, fleeing from the room.

* * *

'Mr Weasley, I don't want to come in. It's not right.'

'Harry,' said Mr Weasley heavily, supporting a weeping Mrs Weasley, 'you and Hermione were his best friends. You're as good as family.'

Mr and Mrs Weasley, Bill, Ginny, Harry and Hermione were standing in the hospital wing, waiting outside a neat, cream-coloured door. Fleur had felt it was a place for family only, and had gone back to the burrow to get dinner prepared for when the broken family returned that night. Fred and George had refused to see his body, and said they would owl Charlie.

Hermione was gripping Harry's hand so tightly he was expecting to hear the snap of one of his fingers. Ginny was sitting on the floor, silent tears rolling down her face, as she supported her weight on the wall of the hospital wing, and Bill was pacing up and down the ward.

Finally the door opened and Slughorn, Snape and Dumbledore emerged.

'Severus and Horace have identified the potion.' Said Dumbledore shortly, reading in the Weasley's faces that they couldn't care less what type of poison it was; it wouldn't bring back Ron. 'You can all go in now.'

They shuffled into the dark room, one by one.

Ron was lying on a crisp white bed in the centre of the room, his face colourless and his eyes shut. Harry's breath caught in his throat. He didn't know how it had happened, but he knew now; Ron was gone.

Mrs Weasley rushed to his side as soon as she laid eyes on him. She leant over his chest, weeping. Mr Weasley crossed to her side, placing his arms around her. Bill and Ginny approached slowly, hand in hand. Ginny ran her hand across Ron's cheek.

Before Harry could stop her, Hermione had once again left the room.

'Hermione,' Harry whispered hopelessly, following her out.

She was out in the grounds when he caught up to her.

He grabbed her wrist. 'Hermione, if you don't say goodbye to him you'll regret it forever.'

'It's my fault!' she cried. 'I knew what a bezoar looked like! I could have saved him!'

'Hermione, this is _not _your fault.' Harry assured her, pulling her into a hug.

'He tried to apologize to me and I just turned away! It wasn't his fault! He must have thought I hated him and now he's gone and I can't tell him sorry!' she wailed.

'He knew you loved him.'

'Harry, I'm a terrible person! How can he be gone?' she whispered tearfully.

Harry resisted the urge to push her away. He couldn't be the shoulder for everyone to cry on. He was hardly coping himself. He knew that one crack in the pavement would be enough for him to lose his footing and send him tumbling down to a point of no return.

* * *

**This was so fluffy and pointless, but – deranged as it may seem – I enjoyed writing about their depression; it was sweet in a weird way.**

**I think this is focused a bit too much on Hermione's loss. His family would be more fucked up, but I've always had a soft spot for Hermione. Although, the way Emma Watson portrays her makes me so mad! That's nothing like how I imagined Hermione!**

**Anyway. Review please, because my new policy states I will not continue until I get multiple reviews. So review please! xx**


	7. The Seventh

**Sorry for the ridiculous wait. Personally, I doubt it was worth it.**

**REVIEW PLEASE!**

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The next day, Dumbledore arranged for an un-talking Harry and Hermione take a Portkey from Hogwarts. Mr and Mrs Granger sent an owl assuring him he was welcome at their home.

The air at the home was subdued. They ate meals together in silence, silent tears running down Hermione's face all the while. Her parents smiled kindly at Harry, but only spoke to him on occasions he could count on one hand.

He had been given the spare bedroom, but he may as well have been given a stretcher in Hermione's room as she crept into his every night and refused to leave, crying into his shirt for hours.

On the day of Ron's funeral, Harry dressed in dress-robes (after magically enlarging them, seeming they had been intended to fit his fourteen-year-old self) and him and Hermione, using the Floo network, arrived the Burrow.

The atmosphere there was suffocating, a cloud of intense sorrow hanging over everyone's head. He gripped Hermione's hand as he lead her through the dismal crowd. Through the swarm of silent relatives he swore he saw the blank face of Ginny, her brown eyes staring at him, empty of emotion, but when he looked back she was gone.

They only stopped moving when they ran into Luna. Her long, sweeping dark gown had a twitching, purple flower clipped to the front, and she smiled sadly upon seeing them. She slowly gave them both a comforting hug, causing Hermione to break down once more.

Luna reached into her pocket, pulling out two more twitching flowers, which she pushed into Harry and Hermione's hands. 'For the hurt.' She said softly, before moving away to sit with a pale, shaking Neville.

They approached Arthur and Molly, and Molly pulled them both into a tight hug, shaking with tears.

As he broke away, he caught Fred and George staring at him and Hermione, as if challenging them to defend themselves. Harry looked away; he already blamed himself, he didn't need reminding of his inability to find a bezoar, which Snape had since announced would have been enough to stop the poison.

Leaving Hermione with Molly, he moved away. He needed to be alone.

Soon he found his feet dragging him to the utmost floor of the household he had spent so many happy hours in, and, his heart betraying him, he found himself in Ron's sickeningly orange bedroom.

He stood at the door, gazing around, taking in every last detail.

He turned to go, just as he heard a shuffling behind the bed. He stiffened, and in an instant he had reached into his robes and withdrawn his wand. Who dared disrupt the peace of this room? Who was so heartless to meddle with the memories? Who in their right mind would be able to walk into this room without falling to pieces?

Suddenly, Ginny jumped up from behind the bed, her hands in flurry around her face, wiping away tears.

He breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his wand. Ginny was allowed. He would let Ginny enter the room.

Even now he couldn't overlook her beauty. Her fiery hair had been pinned back, and her lovely frame was complimented by possibly the loveliest dress Harry had ever seen.

'Harry, I- I...' she was lost for word, and her eyes fell to her feet.

She began to walk towards him, and he held out his arms, ready to hold, comfort and kiss her.

But instead she brushed past him, hurrying down the stairs.

Harry sat numbly through the ceremony. He sat at the back with Hermione, Neville and Luna, declining Bill's offers for him and Hermione to sit at the front with the family.

When he looked around he concluded that the Weasleys had opted for a small ceremony; apart from he, Hermione, Neville and Luna the only school friends attending were Seamus and Dean, but they were staying well away from everyone, murmuring sad words of memory to each other; Lee Jordan was there, sitting a few seats in front of them with Angelina Johnson, but Harry gathered they were there to support and out of honour to Fred and George; sombre-looking Aunts and Uncles were there, but there were no family members the same age as any of the Weasley children; and then, of course, Order members who were close to Arthur and Molly attended.

The immediate family sat at the front, Mrs Weasley weeping all the while, Charlie patting her softly on the back; Bill sat beside him, stony faced, with Fleur sitting behind him, her hand on his shoulder all the time, with a teary Gabrielle clutching at her arm; Fred and George were staring straight ahead, looks of utter fury and desperate confusion on their faces, and finally Arthur took the stand.

He said just a few words, about how amazing Ron was, though it was hardly personal; it could have been any father speaking of any son. Harry assumed it would have cut too deep to have to intimately describe Ron to so many broken-hearts. Harry eventually tuned out.

Charlie then said a few words about his brother, but they were no more personal than Arthur's had been. Finally, when it was Bill's turn to speak, he told the story of the first time he had gotten Ron on a broom stick, which reduced the whole crowd to tears.

Molly seemed to be refusing to speak, and so Fred and George went up, unaware of what to say, glanced at each other, and then turned back and hurried to their seats without a word.

It was then that Harry realised Ginny wasn't with her family, and he spun around wildly. She had to be here; he needed her within his sight. He needed to know she was alright.

The ceremony ended and the crowd slowly got to their feet, and soon the crowd had dispersed and soon the flourishing garden was empty, apart from Charlie, Bill and Arthur. They stumbled through the plastic chairs, stacking the ones they passed with a half-heart wave of their wands. Their eyes remained stubbornly set down, forcing their minds onto the task at hand.

Harry went to the fireplace as to see Hermione off back home.

'When will you be back at school?' he asked her weakly, as he gave her a tight hug.

'Dunno.' She mumbled. 'Bye, Harry.' She stepped into fireplace and threw the glittering powder down at her feet, green flames springing up around her ankles. And in an instant she was gone.

Harry blindly returned to the garden and helped restack the stark white chairs. Charlie had already left, and Arthur had returned to the house, so Bill was alone, with Fleur following him around like a sad little lamb.

'Bill, I muzt take Gabrielle to ze Miniztry. You know zey don't allow international deparrrturez from home-fireplazez.'

Bill nodded numbly, avoiding her eyes.

She leant forward to kiss him on the cheek, but he kept his eyes forward, as if she was invisible.

Harry was certain he saw a hint of hurt in Fleur's gleaming blue eyes as she kissed him, but he assured himself he imagined it. And Bill and Fleur had fought, he didn't really care.

He had been offered Ron's room by Arthur, and, promising he would stay away from the family, he began his treacherous journey back up to that terrifying room. It would be easier for him to get the Knight Bus back to school the next morning from the Burrow than from Hermione's home in Muggle-suburbia.

As he passed the door to a scarcely used sitting room on the second floor, Dean came tumbling out, his face contorted with rage and grief. Harry stared as he stormed down the stairs, and so didn't notice when Ginny slunk out of the room. However, when he turned back to the stair case he noticed her retreating back.

'Ginny,' he murmured.

She turned, and catching sight of him, stopped.

'Ginny...' He hurried up the first few steps, leaving another few between Ginny and himself. 'You weren't at the ceremony.'

She looked at her feet. 'I was back in Ron's room.' She paused, and Harry half expected her to burst into tears. 'I'm pretty tired. Night.' She turned back and sped up the stairs.

He began forward, but was caught off guard by a loud cry.

He ran back downstairs. No one could be hurt. He begged for no one else to have come to harm.

And, for once it seemed, he was not disappointed. Percy stood in the door way, his and Molly's arms around each other, crying heavily into each other's shoulders.

Lupin, Tonks and Kingsley were watching the reconciliation awkwardly, seeming torn between heading into the kitchen to get tea started, as opposed to simply walking form the door and leaving the family in peace.

Harry, however, never learnt of their decision, and merely turned and traipsed back to the utmost floor.

* * *

At two AM, Harry was still awake. Lupin and Tonks had only left perhaps an hour ago, but Arthur and Molly were in bed none the less.

He rolled over, unearthing his head from under his pillow. He had been attempting to drown out his surroundings. But it hadn't worked.

When he freed his ears, he became aware of the distant weeping.

He got out of bed, pulled on his discarded shirt and crept slowly and silently down the stair case. He passed Fred and George's room, from which he could hear their quiet discussion of childhood memories, and he continued to the next landing, where Ginny's soft whimpers could be heard.

He knocked slowly on the door, and in an instant it was wrenched open.

'Oh...' she whispered as she took in his sorry smile and dishevelled hair. 'I thought...' but she never finished, shaking her head. She was in her night down, and the mascara she had been wearing to the ceremony was trailing down her face.

'Can I come in?'

She bit her lip, and after a moment's consideration stepped back to let him in, shutting the door behind him. She went to her bed, sitting herself down and staring at the far wall, making a note of keeping him out of her line of sight.

He remained standing. 'Ginny?'

'Mmm?'

'Who did you think it was?'

She chanced to meet his eyes. 'I thought... I thought that it- it might have been Dean. I thought he might have flown here with his broom stick or something.'

Harry stared at her incredulously. He had forgotten about Dean. Surely he didn't matter after the recent happenings? Harry and Ginny alone comprehended the others sufferings; they were the only ones who could relate.

But Ginny went on. 'After the funeral... he came looking for me, and asked me why I hadn't been at the ceremony. And I told him I couldn't face it. And he told me I'd regret it. And I told him to get out and that I- that I didn't care how I felt anymore... and that he didn't matter to me. But it wasn't true.' She paused to let out a sob. 'I thought he might have come back, so I could say sorry.'

Harry walked slowly to her side, and sat on the bed beside her. He felt her shrink beside him, and draw her arms and legs closer to herself. He leant towards her, his lips steadily approaching hers, but she jumped up.

'What are you doing?' she demanded, still attempting to keep her voice to a whisper. 'Get out of my room! Get out! _Get out!_'

Harry jumped up. 'Ginny, what's wrong with y-'

But she was pushing him from the room, and he daren't disobey her. He was thrown onto the landing, and she slammed her bedroom door in his face.

He stared at the point in the doorway where her bright brown eyes had been just seconds before, before he wrenched his eyes back to the stairs and, with all his might, focused on putting one foot in front of the other to get himself back to his allocated bed.

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**Poor Ginny. Poor Harry, too! Poor Dean – god, I love him.**

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	8. The Eighth

**It was really hard working out when this happened in relation to Ron's birthday. So please; if you find that I've skipped forward a week or something, let me know.**

**Thank you for reviewing – more please! x**

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For the weekend when he returned to school, he was avoided by most of the school. Dean, Seamus and Neville seemed to be making a note of sitting with him whenever possible, but they never exchanged words beyond "good morning" and "pass the salt".

He had hardly ever felt so alone.

Hermione and Ginny hadn't returned to school, and he wasn't expecting them to anytime soon. He hadn't had a chance to talk to Ginny before he left, as she was still asleep when the Knight Bus arrived. He doubted she would have wanted to talk to him anyway.

On his first Monday back, he spent his free-period sitting numbly in his dormitory, staring off into nothingness.

His miserable pondering was only deterred with Dean stumbled into the room. 'Oh – Harry. Hey...' Dean made an odd, awkward motion with his hands. 'I just came to get my broom... thought I might waste a bit of study time, you know? Have a bit of fun...'

Harry gave him a small smile. 'Yeah. I heard we lost last Sunday's match.'

Dean began to rummage around under his four-poster.

'Sorry about that.' Harry mumbled. 'I should have set out replacements for the Quidditch match.'

'Don't be an idiot,' mumbled Dean, pointedly immersing himself in his search. 'No one blames you. No one expected you to be thinking about Quidditch.'

'Yeah.' Harry murmured. 'Me and Ginny... we had other things to do.'

As he had expected, Dean jumped at her name. He emerged from under his bed, dragging along his broomstick. He gazed at the other side of the room for a moment, until Harry continued.

'I mean, god knows I've needed time to think about things. Ginny will have too.' Harry glanced at Dean to look for a reaction, before continuing. 'She's probably reconsidered a lot of things.'

Dean's dark eyes filled with surprise and hurt, and he turned to Harry. 'She said that?'

'More or less, yeah.' Harry gave a small smile. 'But, I mean, who could blame her, right?'

'She's been talking to you about stuff like that, then?'

'Oh yeah,' said Harry casually. 'We've spoken heaps, actually. She just needs someone to listen to her. Someone to understand her needs.'

Dean jumped up, his fists curling at his sides. 'When you talk to her next, tell her... tell her I hope she feels better.' And in an instant he had hurried from the dormitory.

Satisfied with the mess he had caused Dean, he headed down to his next class in a good mood. A considerably good mood, seeming he had Defence Against the Dark Arts.

He slouched into the room, and took his a seat beside Ernie.

He soon realised that he had been foolish to believe that Snape would at least ignore him for this lesson, due to the current circumstances. He left the class fuming with suppressed rage, due to Snape's taunting of his ability to differentiate between Inferi and ghosts.

Later that night, he received a message via Neville that he was wanted in Dumbledore's office.

With a sense of dread, he began his long ascent to Dumbledore's magnificent office. The idea of talking about what had happened loomed over him like a ferocious beast, ready to tear him limb from limb.

When he reached the door to Dumbledore's office, he took a deep steadying breath and knocked.

'Come in.'

Harry hesitantly entered, shutting the heavy door behind him. Dumbledore surveyed him through his half-moon spectacles as he took his seat across from him at his desk.

'How have you been, Harry?' Dumbledore's voice was calm and sympathetic. He had lines under his eyes, and his hand was still as blackened as ever.

Harry gave a small nod. Even this gesture was a lie.

'How were Molly and Arthur when you left?'

He gave a shrug.

'And Ginevra?' Dumbledore's eyes seemed to alert Harry that he was aware of their current situation.

'She's fine. I mean, of course she's not fine. But she's just the same as her brothers.'

'And Miss Granger?'

Harry shrugged. 'She hadn't spoken much. Just cried. I don't know when she'll be back at school.'

Dumbledore nodded. His long fingers massaged his brow, and he looked back up at Harry. 'Harry, I'm going to have to ask you again to tell me, in detail, everything that happened. It can't be delayed any longer than it already has.'

Harry struggled to recall everything he could remember. It was emotionally exhausting and when he finished, he felt like he was going to collapse.

Dumbledore gave a slow nod. 'Thank you, Harry. That is all I'll ask you for tonight. We will continue our lessons within the week, after you've had some time to settle in.' He paused to stare into Harry's hollow eyes. 'I suggest you get to bed. You need to be rested for your classes.'

Harry nodded and shakily got to his feet, and headed for the door. His hand grasped the handle, when he turned abruptly to Dumbledore. 'Professor?'

'Yes, Harry?'

'Do you... have any idea who did this?' His voice had an evident pining in it. He needed to know. He couldn't go on without knowing.

Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, considering Harry, before he answered. 'We are quite sure that whoever is responsible for the attack on Miss Bell is also responsible for the poison. Now please, Harry, I can't deprive you of rest any longer.'

* * *

That weekend, all the students who would be seventeen in the next fortnight headed towards Hogsmeade, and Harry was alone once more.

Everything that he had fancied doing two weeks ago now seemed so trivial, so pointless, so unfair. He had given up on his theories about Malfoy, and Quidditch now seemed ever so childish.

He found himself aimlessly wondering the rabbit-warren of the Hogwarts' corridors. Younger children laughed happily together, a small girl surveyed the portrait of dancing trolls, and life went on. It wasn't fair.

He had just passed the small girl when, to his astonishment, he ran into Tonks.

'Oh, Harry, hello.' Tonks had lost weight and her hair was again lank and mousy. He hadn't given her appearance much thought when he was her at the funeral – he hadn't given anything much thought, and so her sickly appearance was a shock.

'Hi.' Harry mumbled, still looking her up and down. 'What are you doing here?'

'I just came to see Dumbledore.'

'His office is-'

'Yes, I know. He's gone away again.' Tonks' merry complexion wasn't the only thing that seemed to have failed her. Her voice was shallow, empty and heavy. He knew she had liked Ron, but so had everyone, and yet they were still retaining at least some stability. And, he reminded himself, she had been sinking downwards for quite a while. Perhaps another death finally tipped her over the edge.

'Right. Well, I'll see you around.' He didn't feel like talking to her. He didn't feel like talking to anyone.

He began his slow walk away, but she called him back.

'Wait, Harry – have you heard what's been going on? People getting hurt...'

Harry turned to look at her. 'No. I haven't. I don't hear much anymore.'

Tonks' eyes seemed to well with tears, and it occurred to him that he had inadvertently referred to Sirius.

'Tonks... I'm sorry, I know how it feels.'

Tonks looked at him curiously. 'What- oh, yes, Ron. I'm sorry. I didn't have a chance to talk to you at the funeral.'

Harry averted his eyes. He didn't know how she had jumped to Ron, but it had stirred a vicious anger deep inside him. 'I really should get going. Homework.'

Without giving her time to say goodbye, he hurried away, and found himself in his dormitory.

* * *

The only thing that stood out in his memory over the next week was his subdued lesson with Dumbledore, in which he was shown a memory of Voldemort requesting the position of DAD teacher, and his request being denied. He had also learnt that he would not be having another lesson until he retrieve the memory.

There was a part of him that wanted to lash out at Dumbledore; not in the same inhuman way of the year before, but a rational, considered rage that came from being asked so much, after what he had been through.

He swallowed that rage and concluded that Dumbledore intended to prevent another attack by keeping Harry's mind on different things and training him. But he couldn't convince himself.

The only minor bump in his week was receiving a letter from Hagrid.

_Dear Harry, _it had read;

_Aragog died last night. All this death has got me right down, and so I knew I couldn't face it alone. I think it would be nice if we could say goodbye together. I wish Ron could have been here to say goodbye too; I know you three had a memorable history. I'm planning on doing it round dusk, that was his favourite time of day. I know you're not supposed to be out that late, but you can use the Cloak._

_Hagrid_

Before he had even finished reading, he had let out a howl of rage and thrown the retched letter in the fire of the common room. How dare Hagrid insult Ron's memory with the comparison of a spider?

He didn't bother replying.

After Charms the next day, he returned to the common room to find a group of seventh years huddled around a beaming Katie.

'Harry!' She exclaimed upon seeing him. She rushed towards him, arms out for a hug, but stopped just a foot from him, her face falling. 'Oh, Harry... Angelina wrote to me. I'm so sorry.'

Harry gave a small smile of thanks. 'It's good you're all right.'

'Yeah,' she couldn't hide her grin. Harry understood; when you came so close to death, you would of course be thinking of your narrow escape, as opposed to another narrow escape that someone didn't quite make. 'They let me out of St Mungo's on Monday; I had a couple of days at home with Mum and Dad and then came back here this morning. I heard we lost the last match because of all the missing players.' She looked at her feet. 'Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that it's your fault – or Ron's. I'm not saying that this is the only reason I'll miss him-'

Harry hurriedly cut her off. 'Listen, Katie... the necklace. Do you know who gave it to you?'

'No. Everyone's been asking me, but I haven't got a clue. The last thing I remember is walking into the Ladies' at the Three Broomsticks.' She looked back up at him with pitying blue eyes. 'Do you think that whoever did this to Ron...'

'Yeah, I do.' Without another word, he turned back and entered his dormitory.

Suddenly, an idea formed in his head. He had had a full theory on who had given Katie the necklace. And Dumbledore thought that the one person was responsible.

He dashed to his trunk, and, throwing his possessions in every direction behind him, pulled out the Marauder's Map. He scoured over it, in a desperate search for the one dot...

Malfoy.

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**Dean's so sweet. Harry seemed like such an arse hole, but he **_**is**_** really upset, after all. He probably would do heartless things right now. He was a bit OOC for the whole chapter, but that's kind of the point. **

**You'll notice he didn't acquire the memory... Where will this take us? I'm not actually sure myself.**

**Please, please, **_**please**_** review. And thank you for those who have been reviewing! x**


	9. The Last

**I'm sorry, but I can't do this. No body really seems that hooked, so I'm certain I won't be letting anybody down.**

**There's just no where to go with this. I really didn't plan this. Everyway I look at it I'm stuck; I don't know what will happen next or how it will end.  
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**Let's just say Voldemort took over and Fred never died. There. **

**Perhaps if I have nothing else to write about I'll continue, but for now, I have other ideas. **

**And for anyone whose read Hunger Games; I'm going to be starting a fic shortly, because I'll have time to write something more if this is out of the way.  
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**Sorry, guys. xx  
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